


And She Loves Her

by Chash



Series: Exiles Among You [5]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 14:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11315319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Clarke's never wanted kids. She actively didn't want kids. But even before she found out about Octavia, she kind of expected that kids were going to be a thing with Bellamy. And she can live with that, probably. He's worth it.





	And She Loves Her

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly Clarke's POV of the same time period as [And Hides Her Somewhere In Herself, Safe From Harm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6357259) and [Wish on Everything](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8843455), which means we now have the full set!

One of Clarke's dad's favorite stories about her childhood comes from when she was in kindergarten, and the teacher had everyone in the class write and illustrate short books called _In the Future_. As with most kindergarten activities, it was mostly just a lot of messy writing and incomprehensible drawings, but the teacher had at some point started prompting her because she wasn't coming up with ideas of her own and was just drawing pictures of dogs.

Her father hadn't been there, but the way he tells it, based on Clarke's and the teacher's accounts, was that the teacher first asked Clarke if she thought she'd be married.

"Yes," said Clarke. "I'm going to marry Ariel from _The Little Mermaid_."

To her credit, the teacher took this in strike. "And will you live on a ship? In a house? On the beach."

Clarke scribbled a lot of blue on the page. "Under the sea. We're going to live with Flounder."

"And how many children will you have?"

It didn't rankle her back then, not yet, but it started to around high school, when her father told her about it. The casual assumption that children were a given. 

But in kindergarten, it just seemed straightforward. "We won't have any. Just dolphins."

"No children?" the teacher asked. 

"Nope. Dolphins. And fish. Dolphins aren't fish," she'd apparently added. "They're mammals."

"Yes, they are," said the teacher. "But wouldn't it be nice to have a baby?"

Even now, Clarke doesn't understand this impulse people have. She doesn't get why anyone would start a fight with a thirty-year-old about how many children they want, let alone a kindergartner. But apparently that was what bothered her teacher. Not that she was going to marry a fictional character and live under the ocean with dolphins, just that she wouldn't have a human baby with her when she did it.

"No," she said.

"All girls want babies," said a boy sitting next to her, which had been the real trouble. The teacher would have, she assumes, moved on at some point. But other students could be fought.

Which was what ended up happening, Clarke and the boy in a tangle of limbs, Clarke insisting she was never, _ever_ going to have a baby. _Ever_. Which she continued to do the next day too, as her parents talked to the principal about how violence was not an acceptable way to solve her problems.

She doesn't think she really committed to not having children just because of one kindergarten experience, but it is proof that she's never quite gotten the appeal. And the more people assumed children would just be a natural part of her future, the more obstinate she became about it. If her partner wanted them, she was open to the idea. Ready to negotiate. 

But left to her own devices, she's never been interested in children, for their own sake. They don't inherently do anything for her.

And then she falls in love with Bellamy Blake.

*

Even before he gets Octavia, it's obvious that Bellamy loves kids. It's something Clarke assumed would be basically standard, when she started teaching high school, an actual source of stress for her. She likes teaching without having changed her general opinion on motherhood, and she didn't want to feel isolated because of it.

As it turned out, maternal instincts weren't any more of an expectation with teachers than they were with anyone else. So, as usual, her eventual motherhood is taken for granted, and when she protests, she's told she'll change her mind. The only real difference is that when people say she seems so _good_ with children, they have actual grounding beyond the fact that she's female. But Clarke knows how different it is, being a teacher than being a parent, and just because she's good at the first, it doesn't mean she has any interest in the second. 

Bellamy's there, once, when Dr. Peters asks her about it, and when Clarke says she's not planning to have any, he says, "Yeah, it's not for everyone," and changes the subject before Dr. Peters can push.

Which isn't, of course, _why_ she falls in love with him, but it is one of the thousand things. Another in the long line of reasons he's her favorite person.

It's a few months after that when he texts and asks if he can come get drunk, and that's when she finds out about his sister.

"I just don't know what to do," he says, sounding lost. "I've tried--fuck, Clarke. I've tried everything. And nothing works, and I just--" He cuts himself off with harsh noise that sounds a lot like a _sob_. It's alarming for a lot of reasons, not least because she has absolutely no idea what's happening. So she shifts closer, pressing her leg against his, bumping his shoulder.

"If you told me what you were talking about, I might be able to offer some advice."

"My sister," he says. "My responsibility."

Clarke had heard about Octavia before this, of course. She knows that she liked to draw when she was a kid, that Bellamy had to trick her into eating broccoli by telling her that eating something that looked like a tree would make it easier to climb them. She knows he loves his sister with a fierceness that sometimes makes her feel small and alone. 

And she knows that she makes him sad, but she doesn't know why.

"What happened?" she asks. "You're drunk, so I can ask now, right? If you come over to get drunk on my couch, I get to ask you uncomfortable questions about your family."

"I left her." His voice is desolate, and he's staring down at his hands as if they're unfamiliar, as if he doesn't recognize or control them. "I didn't want to, but--my father wanted custody of me, and my mother didn't want to fight for it, so I left with him, and I never saw her again. I don't--fuck. I don't know how to _find her_. My mom won't talk to me, I don't even know what school she's in now, they might not even be in Baltimore anymore." He scrubs his hand over his face, wiping away tears, and Clarke wraps her arms around him and tries to understand, even though it's unfathomable to her. 

"How long has it been?" she asks, and that makes him smile.

"That's what you care about?"

His voice is teasing, so she smiles. "I can't help unless I have a full grasp of the situation, Bellamy."

"I was fourteen," he says. "She was six."

"You didn't leave her." He huffs out a bitter laugh, and she squeezes him again, moving closer. "You _didn't_. You were taken away, okay? You were a kid, and you had to leave. You don't have to blame yourself for that. You couldn't help it."

"It's been eight years, and I haven't found her. I haven't even _talked_ to her." He rubs his face. "What if I never see her again?"

"You will," says Clarke, and his laugh is only a little strained.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Her name is _Octavia Blake_ , come on. You only have so long to wait before you just hit her on a google search."

He laughs again, rests his cheek on her hair. "You're the weirdest kind of comforting, you know that?"

"You're the one who called me," she retorts. "So clearly weird comforting was what you were looking for."

"It was." She can feel his breathing slowing, calming, and she matches her own to it, the two of them just resting on each other for a long minute. "I emailed my mom," he finally says. "I just--I laid everything out. Wells moved out, so I have a nice place with an empty room, a job that pays enough to support me and someone else, some savings in the bank, so--I asked if she'd give me O. I thought--fuck, she just gave me up without a fight, why wouldn't she get rid of another teenager when she got the chance?"

"Bellamy--"

"I know, that's unfair."

"That's not what I was gonna say."

"No?"

"I was going to say I'm sorry." She rubs her hand up and down his side, slow, easy comfort. "What did she say?"

"Nothing. I've emailed her every break I've had since I started college, and she's never fucking replied. I don't know why I thought this time would be different. I don't even know if that email still works, or if she forgot the password, or--"

It's almost too big for Clarke to really think about. She and Bellamy are about the same age, twenty-four, and while it's in some ways easier to think about having a teenager than having a baby, because she deals with teenagers all the time, she still can't really wrap her brain around adopting one. Not only adopting one, but _fighting_ for one, spending years trying to reconnect, to get in touch, to reclaim this one girl.

His sister.

"I promise, you are going to be able to google her," she says, and he laughs.

"Yeah, I probably am." He lets out a long breath. "You want to put on Netflix?"

"Whatever you want, yeah."

"Not quite _whatever_ I want," he says, and she rubs her hand through his hair, gentle.

"Whatever I can do," she corrects, and means it. 

"This is good," he he says, settling in closer. 

She fumbles a little getting the remote, a little overwhelmed just _hearing_ what it's like for him. She can't imagine feeling how Bellamy does about his sister. But at the same time, she understands some parallel version of it, because she can't imagine feeling the way she does about him and being anywhere but by his side, no matter what.

It's a staggering thought, to feel like you belong with someone. But Clarke has never been more certain.

*

"I thought if I asked if you had pads in front of him, he might actually di--" Clarke cuts herself off, glancing down at the girl next to her and swallowing hard.

It never occurred to her how often she casually references death in conversation, not until she was absolutely terrified of fucking up with Octavia Blake.

So far, she thinks the whole thing is going as well as can be expected. Bellamy seems trapped somewhere between joy and terror, which she saw coming, and Octavia is quiet and wary, but it's impossible for Clarke to believe it's not going to work out for them. Bellamy loves his sister _so much_ , and if Octavia doesn't understand that yet, Clarke is sure she will. It's just so _obvious_. Now that they're together, it's going to work out. It has to.

So she clears her throat, corrects to, "Pass out," and offers Octavia a somewhat sheepish smile.

Octavia looks like she's trying not to smile herself. She's a lovely girl, her skin paler than her brother's, her face less freckled, eyes lighter. Clarke's brains settles on those differences, can't help it, and wonders how, with all of those, she still manages to look so much like Bellamy. 

"Yeah, probably," she agrees, worrying her lip. "Do you think if we brought some back, he'd still pass out?"

"Fifty-fifty," she says, although she's doesn't really think it's true. He's going to be fine. 

But making fun of Bellamy is the easy part of this for her. If all she ever had to do with Octavia was tease Bellamy, she'd be in great shape. It's what Raven will probably do, and Bellamy will be happy with that. 

It's not enough, though. Octavia is the most important person in Bellamy's world, and he wants her to be happy. Which means Clarke wants her to be happy too. She doesn't want to be a mother, but--she doesn't have to be a mother. She just needs to be there.

There are other ways to be a family.

"Look, I know you don't know me," she says, awkward, as she and Octavia stare at the bright rows of shampoo together. Even when she speaks, Octavia doesn't look up, which is appreciated. It's easier to talk to her without eye contact. "But--if you need anything, you can ask. Anything you can't talk to Bellamy about, or--just absolutely anything at all. I'll give you my number. You can call any time."

Clarke doesn't know her well enough to read her tone when she asks, "Really?"

"He loves you, and he's my best friend. So yeah. Any time."

"Your best friend?"

The dubiousness in _that_ question is unmistakable, but Clarke makes her reply light. "Sad but true."

Octavia worries her lip, letting her fingers skate over a bottle of Pert Plus. Clarke knows what's coming before she says it, and Octavia doesn't disappoint. "I thought you guys were, um. I thought you were his girlfriend."

It's far from the first time someone's assumed that, but Clarke would have assumed that whatever explanation Bellamy gave of her would have included the term _best friend_. On the other hand, he's been basically a mess since his mother died and he found out he was getting his sister, so it might have slipped his mind to clarify. He might have just called her _Clarke_ with absolutely no qualifiers.

It's easy slack to pick up. "Oh, no," she says, smiling. "Not his girlfriend." Octavia looks dubious, and she feels a flush climbing up her neck. It's tempting to add something else, to try to explain, but protestations will just seem even more suspicious, so she forces herself move on. "Seriously, pads? Tampons? Awkward stuff that Bellamy won't be able to look at?"

Octavia's smiling a little, faint and slightly vague, and Clarke has to stop herself from reaching out, like she would if it were Bellamy. "Not right now. But I might ask you to take me later. Just so Bellamy doesn't have to deal with it," she adds quickly.

"Like I said, any time."

She nods once, decisive. "If we don't bring anything back, he's going to worry," she says. "I should get _something_."

"But not pads," says Clarke. "Or he'll probably faint. What kind of shampoo do you use? We can pick up some of that, and he'll feel better. He just wants to make sure you're comfortable," she can't help adding.

"I know." Her voice is harsh, but this part Clarke does understand. It's easy for her to think about all the time Bellamy lost; since that drunken night, he's told her a good deal about what it was like for him, these last eight years, what he went through. And through that, she got some ideas about what it would have been like for Octavia too, what it would have been like growing up without someone there for her.

"Yeah, it sounds kind of fake to me too," she tells Octavia. "But you can never have too much shampoo."

Bellamy's still in line when they get back, leaning against the cart, looking like he is putting every single ounce of focus and concentration he has into looking relaxed. Which is, of course, completely ineffective, but also incredibly endearing.

Someday soon, having his sister around is just going to be good for him, and Clarke can't wait. Even with all his odd tension, he looks better, more sure of himself. _Happier_. Like he's regained something she didn't realize he was missing.

Or maybe she's just romanticizing it. That's a possibility too.

"Shampoo," she tells him, bumping her hip against his. "And conditioner."

"Oh right, girls want both of those," he says. "I still don't know the difference. Why does your hair need conditioning?"

"Because beauty standards are a thing. Don't judge, Bellamy."

"If I'm not judging, I don't have anything else to do. You sure you're good, Octavia?" he adds, turning his attention to his sister. "We probably have time before we get to the checkout."

Octavia rolls her eyes, looking exactly like a petulant teenager for the first time since Clarke has met her. It feels like a good sign, that she's already comfortable enough with him to fall into those unconscious patterns. "Are we never going to get to go to the store again?" she asks. "Do we have to get everything I'm ever going to need right now?"

"Everything you want for the next twenty-four hours," he says, but back of almost immediately. "I mean, we're going to the grocery store tomorrow, so--"

"I want a candy bar," says Clarke, reaching over to grab some peanut butter cups. "Octavia, do you want a candy bar?"

Octavia's mouth tugs up a little. "Can I get M&Ms?"

"Not a bar, but I think I can allow it. Bellamy?"

His own smile is soft, grateful. "Get me a Butterfingers, thanks."

She puts the candy on the conveyor belt, and Bellamy pays for everything without any apparent worry about the total. She's already got a reminder in her phone to ask him about money next week, so she doesn't mention it either. It's not a conversation to have in front of Octavia, anyway.

Clarke helps him with the bags, and Octavia lags behind a little. It's understandable, but so is Bellamy's tension, so she says, "So, dinner. What are we having? You're taking us somewhere nice, right?"

"I don't have to," he says, and seems to only realize how it sounds when she raises her eyebrows. "I mean, uh--you can just go home."

"I still like hanging out with you," she reminds him. "Really, Bellamy. I'm having fun. I want to come."

He clears his throat. "Thanks, though. Really."

"Always," she says, and means it. "But seriously, I want a nice dinner."

"I already got you a candy bar." There's less strain around his eyes already, so she must be doing something right. "Don't be greedy, Clarke."

*

The thing about being an actual parent is that there's usually some kind of preparation period, from what Clarke understands. Even if whatever kid you end up with isn't the result of a planned pregnancy, there's usually some sort of thought or discussion: the decision not to terminate, the decision to foster, the decision to accept some kid into your life.

Clarke knew that Bellamy's mind was always made up, but she hadn't ever thought about his mother dying and his sister coming to him, so she hadn't put much thought into what actual effect Octavia would have on _her_. 

Which, obviously, it's not about her, and she'd feel bad if she'd been obsessing about it. But her focus has always been on supporting Bellamy, and it hadn't occurred to her that she might need support too. That she might have to figure out how she fits into all this.

"I don't see how this is a surprise," Raven says, because support isn't really her thing. "Bellamy got a kid, of course she's your kid too. You knew it was coming."

"I did," Clarke says, with a sigh. "But--not like this."

"Like what?"

"It's hard to explain. You help out, but--"

"But I'm not in love with him."

She inclines her head, granting the point. "Not just that. I don't know what I _am_ , you know? I want to be around all the time, helping him take care of her, but I'm not--" She huffs. "My students all think we're having a secret affair, you're convinced we're going to start dating any day, but I don't even know if I'm supposed to tell him when I think he's fucking up, or how to--"

"Whoa," says Raven. "Okay, yeah. Take a deep breath. What happened? Did you guys have a fight?"

"No, nothing happened. But it's going to."

"What is?"

"She's got a crush," Clarke admits. "On a kid who hangs out in my art room. And I know Bellamy's going to freak out about it, and I want to tell him not to." She rubs her face. "Actually, I don't. I don't want him to find out about it, because it's not a big deal. But it seems like it might be beyond my pay grade." 

Raven puts her arm around Clarke's shoulders, squeezes. "You want to tell me about it from the beginning?"

"Seriously, nothing bad has happened. I know Bellamy's--" She smiles a little. "I know how grateful he is that I'm helping him out. But--I'm helping. Every time I do anything, he acts like I'm doing him a huge favor. And I get why, but--I don't want it to be like that. He doesn't expect to get thanked for just--she's been his responsibility his whole life. I get it. But I don't want him to feel like he's alone with all this."

"He knows he's not, Clarke," says Raven. "Trust me."

"Not like he should."

There's a pause, Raven watching her with an expression that makes her slightly nervous. "Look. I know you're gone for him, okay? Wells knows. His sister knows. We all fucking know, except for him. And I get that it's scary, but--"

"I think I need to convince him I'm in this," Clarke admits. "I think that comes first."

Raven looks dubious. "How do you do that?"

"No idea."

"You could just sit him down and tell him you're in love with him and you want to help him raise his sister. I'm pretty sure he thinks about you saying that when he jerks off."

Clarke has to smile. "I'd prefer he just thought about my breasts."

"Okay, you saying that topless," Raven corrects. "You know what I mean."

"I do know what you mean," Clarke agrees. "I'm going to tell him. I really am. But--I don't think it's time."

Raven nods. "But you're good, right? You're happy? This is one of those problems you're happy to have, like how Wells and I are fighting about how big of a wedding we want."

She smiles. "Yeah. It's a great problem to have."

*

As much as Clarke looked forward to breaks as a student, it's _nothing_ compared to how much she loves them as a teacher. Vacations, as a teacher, are the fucking _best_ , and she's even more excited for Thanksgiving, because it's going to be so much time with Bellamy and Octavia, _family_ time.

Honestly, she might crash at their place for the entire break. It's tempting. They probably won't stop her.

She thinks about texting Bellamy before she goes over, but she told him on Friday that she'd see him tomorrow, so she assumes that he's at least theoretically expecting her. And if he and Octavia aren't awake yet, she does know where the spare key is. She can absolutely let herself in and fool around on the Wii until the Blakes drag themselves out of bed.

But, to her surprise, Octavia opens the door promptly, and not only are they awake, but they have company.

Bellamy is the most distracting, of course, because he's in early-morning mode, shirtless in his pajamas, glasses slightly crooked on his face. In an ideal world, she'd just be able to stare at him non-stop, but there are other people around, including _students_ , and she turns her attention to Monty, Jasper, and Harper, who are all gaping at her from the couch. She is, definitely, dressed for leisure, and completely unprofessional.

And showing up at her coworker's door when he's half naked. The coworker everyone thinks she's dating, even. Just because it's vacation doesn't mean it's not awkward.

"You guys are giving me a lot to process here," she finally says, settling her attention on Octavia.

Octavia huffs. "I told him I had friends coming over. I think his brain stops working once vacation starts."

Clarke considers her response, weighing her options carefully. There is, of course, the option of pretending she was coming for legitimate reasons, like because her car broke down and she needs a jump, or he has some paperwork for her, or something.

Or she could just lean into it. This is something she wants to be a regular occurrence in her life, and she has to learn to deal with it sooner or later.

"Yeah, well," she says, giving Octavia a smile, "his brain is always pretty questionable. What are we playing? I want in."

Jasper opens and closes his mouth a couple times before he manages to speak. "Smash Brothers. You can sub in for me, I don't mind."

"Appreciated." She settles on the floor, glances back over her shoulder at Bellamy, who doesn't look much less slackjawed than Jasper, honestly. "And put a shirt on, Bellamy. There are kids here."

"Happy Thanksgiving to you too," he says, but it's enough to get him moving. And, to Clarke's unspeakable relief, when he comes back into the living room, he's still wearing his pajama pants and glasses, so he's decided he can take the day to relax too.

Or relax relative to being Bellamy, which means he takes about thirty seconds to watch the end of the match and then asks, "Did you guys have a plan for lunch?"

"Pizza, probably," says Octavia.

He makes a face. "Pizza?"

"You like pizza. Don't act like you're too good for pizza now."

"I'm not too good for pizza, it's just too early for it."

"It's 12:15, Bellamy," says Clarke. "Just because you slept in doesn't mean it's actually early."

"Fine, _I_ don't want pizza, so if you guys play your cards right, I'll make waffles."

"Is playing our cards right just telling you that we want waffles?" she asks. "Because I'm not willing to put any more effort into it than that."

"I'll say please," says Monty. "And beg, if necessary. I love waffles."

"Yeah, same," says Jasper. "Basically whatever I need to do. We're shameless."

"You're lucky everyone else is picking up your slack," he tells Clarke, pushing himself off the floor and heading into the kitchen. "None of you are allowed to have coffee, though. You're all hyperactive enough already."

Clarke waits until she loses, which doesn't take long, and then hands her controller back to Jasper and goes to check on Bellamy in the kitchen. There's a clear line of sight from the living room, so none of the kids will actually be able to wonder if they're doing anything inappropriate, but she _can_ talk to him in a fairly private way.

"I can take off, if you want," she murmurs.

He frowns. "Take off?"

"If we want to keep the gossip down."

"I think it's a little late for that," he says, apparently without thinking, and the winces. "Not that, uh--I don't care," he settles on. "Octavia lives here now, she's going to have friends over, so am I. I'm not going to try to arrange my life around them not realizing I have personal relationships. And everyone already knows I have one with you."

"Cool. You need help with the waffles?"

He snorts. "Not from you." But then his expression softens a little. "You should have fun with the video games. I'm set in here."

"Division of labor," she agrees. "You do the cooking, I beat teenagers at video games."

"The two most important responsibilities in any household. You should take some coffee too. Just to rub it in their faces."

"And so I don't die of caffeine withdrawal?"

"I wasn't going to say it."

She heads back into the living room and flops back down, listening with half an ear to the comforting sound of Bellamy in the kitchen. Even when he's not doing much, just making coffee or cereal, there's something about his presence there that makes the room feel alive, that makes the house feel like a home.

That might just be him, though.

Once they've eaten, he does come back to socialize too, and he even gets out of his own head, doesn't worry about being the right person for once. Which is always Clarke's favorite, because he _is_ the right person, always. And, even better, he doesn't worry about being her friend, about nudging her shoulder to mess her up and teasing her and smiling at her, and it does feel like the perfect test run for the life she wants.

It even feels like something she can have.

The kids leave at around six, when Jasper's mom comes to give rides home, and Clarke lets herself snuggle into Bellamy's side on the couch. His only response is to raise his arm so she can get closer and then wraps it around her, so that's great too. He smells like detergent and sunshine, and he might actually be perfect.

"Worn out?" he teases.

"Just thinking about all the other things we've done and trying to compare it." Octavia sits down on the floor next to them, and she directs the question to both of them. "So, how bad is this one going to be?"

Bellamy considers. "I was the one who walked into a bunch of students shirtless."

"I was the one who came over to your house while you were shirtless," she shoots back, and he grins.

"You handled it like a champ, though."

She pokes him in the side. "Yeah, I really reined in my incredible lust. It's so hard not jumping you in front of your sister and her three over-invested friends. I deserve a gold star for restraint."

"I was looking really hot," he says, but in a sort of faux-contemplative way that makes her think he doesn't realize how true it is.

"I'm the one who has to witness this, you know," says Octavia, which is a good reminder that they're not alone and she should not be thinking about climbing into Bellamy's lap and tugging off his shirt to demonstrate exactly how hot she finds him. Not that those thoughts are ever that far from her mind, but still. They can wait for her to be alone in the shower. "Why are you even here, Clarke?" 

As distractions go, it's not much, but she'll take it. "It's vacation, I'm bored. Hanging out with my favorite siblings."

"Yeah, she basically lives here when we're on break," Bellamy says. "I should have warned you."

"I'm a perk." She pokes him again. "You should order pizza."

He groans, but at least doesn't object to pizza this time. She's honestly been craving it since they brought it up earlier. "Octavia should order pizza, I don't want to move."

"You're the worst adults ever," says Octavia, and Bellamy fumbles his phone out of his pocket and gives it to her.

"We definitely are," Clarke agrees. "But you're stuck with us."

She can feel Bellamy tensing next to her, just slightly, and she snuggles closer. Every day isn't going to be this good. They're going to fight and disagree and Octavia is going to be a handful, once she gets used to them.

But Clarke wants it all. Clarke wants to be a part of it.

"And you're suck with the toppings I want on this pizza," says Octavia, oblivious. "Suck on that."

Bellamy relaxes by degrees, leans into Clarke more heavily, and Clarke lets her eyes drift closed.

"Yeah, yeah," he says. "I'm sucking on it."

*

"We finally had that fight," Clarke tells Raven, flopping down onto her couch and closing her eyes.

"I assume this is about Bellamy because everything in your life is about Bellamy. You're like a walking Bechdel test failure."

"Just around you. I talk to my students about things that aren't Bellamy all the time." She pauses. "But, yeah, this is about Bellamy."

"You seem pretty upbeat for having a fight with him."

"A good fight, I think. It was just kind of us glaring at each other for a minute and then Octavia pointed out it was none of our business. But he told me to butt out and I didn't, so--I think that's good."

"Honestly, I can't believe it took this long for that to happen. If that's all you had to do to get in a fight--"

"He's usually good at this," Clarke says. "I don't disagree with him that often."

"But it's good, right? That you guys disagreed."

"Yeah, I think so. He needed to someone to argue with him, and he needed to know I would."

"So does that mean you're going to tell him you want to marry him now? Or do you have another excuse?"

"No, I'm going to. I just need to psych myself up. So--probably by Christmas."

Raven rolls her eyes. "This is why I bet Wells he was going to make the first move."

"You and Wells bet on my love life and you're making fun of _me_ for not passing the Bechdel test?"

"Come on, when's the last time you saw a black guy and a latina talk about _anything_ in a movie? We're already beating the odds."

Clarke smiles. "Okay, fine. You want to hear dumb student stories? Will that make you feel better?"

"Only if we're done with Bellamy."

"We're never _done_ with Bellamy," she admits. "But we can take a break. I think we're good."

She means it, but she still can't quite _relax_ until she talks to him. His offer of hanging out made it fairly clear he wasn't pissed at her, but she still feels a little at loose ends until she opens the door the next morning and finds him at the door, looking sheepish and a little cold.

Her smile is unavoidable. "Hey. What's up?"

He holds up a bag from the bakery down the street. "I'm an asshole, so I got you cupcakes."

"If you got me cupcakes every time you were an asshole, I'd never be able to eat them all," she points out, stepping out of the way so he can come in. He's untying his shoes, which is a good sign. That means he's probably staying. "Where's Octavia?"

"Library. She's texting me when she's done, so I was just going to hang out here. It's closer than going home," he adds, sounding slightly defensive.

"Yeah, you really want to avoid that extra five minutes in car. You want coffee? Are these breakfast cupcakes?"

"All cupcakes are breakfast cupcakes," he says, which is one of those things he'll only ever say to her, because he wants everyone else to think he's a real adult who believes in the food groups. That's nice too. She's special. "And coffee would be great."

She leads him into the kitchen and doesn't sit yet, just hovers by the table, drumming his fingers on the edge as she gets the coffee going. It's a pretty classic tell of his, and she stays quiet, letting him decide what direction the conversation is taking.

To her relief, it's the one she wants. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I was being stupid, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"I was baiting you," she says, unapologetic. "I pretty sure you'd rather take it out on me than Octavia. Or, god forbid, Lincoln." Fairness compels her to add, "And you weren't even that bad."

"Yeah, but I'm not allowed to thank you for distracting me. So these are officially apology cupcakes, not gratitude cupcakes."

It is honestly kind of adorable, how dedicated he is to her _don't thank me_ rule, which wasn't even supposed to be a _rule_ , really. It was mostly her first attempt to explain to him how she thought she should fit into this, and it obviously didn't work.

But his twisting himself around to figure out ways to thank her without thanking her is great, so she's never going to tell him that. "Don't exploit the loophole, Bellamy."

"Seriously," he says, sobering again. "I really wasn't ready for that."

"Did you guys talk about it?"

"Yeah, some. Just--I don't know. I assumed she wouldn't be thinking about that stuff yet. Not because she's too young. But I figured she'd still be--Mom only just died."

"Yeah. But that can help, too. It's nice to have a distraction. And as distractions go, Lincoln's a good one. He's a good guy. Which I know you know. I'm just going to keep reminding you."

"Yeah, that can't hurt." He lets himself lean against the counter next to her, which is at least getting close to relaxing. "If it makes her happy, I'll drive her to every fucking date, honestly."

She grins. "He has a car, so you don't even have to drive her."

"Let me be a little bit of a control freak, okay?"

The coffee machine switches itself off, and Clarke pours them two mugs and grabs the cupcakes, gently pushing Bellamy to the table to actually sit down before she asks, "Are you going to make him let you pick him up too? And then they sit in the back, but with the middle seat between them?"

"This is the stuff I missed out on growing up in cities. I just took the bus to dates."

"I know all the tricks," she agrees.

"That's, uh--" He looks down at his coffee, worrying his lip. "That's the other thing."

"Do you need me to teach you how to date?" she teases. "Do you not know?"

"Shut up, I'm being serious," he says, like she doesn't know. But--it's a little intimidating. It's a lot of serious for Saturday morning. "Look, I said--I told you I don't need your commentary, and you said I did, and you're right. If you think I'm being an idiot, I want to know. If you think I'm fucking up, tell me. If you've got commentary, I always want to hear it. I don't promise to always remember that I want to hear it, but--I do. And if I forget that again, I'll buy you more cupcakes."

She's going to marry this boy. There's no question. She doesn't care how many strings he has or how many kids he wants. As long as she gets _him_ , she'll be happy. More than happy. "That was probably the nicest speech anyone's ever given me." She nudges his foot under the table. "But the cupcakes don't hurt either."

His laugh sounds more like a release of tension than amusement, and Clarke gets that too. She thinks, finally, that they might actually be completely on the same page. "Well," he says, "I wanted to cover all my bases."

"Yeah," she agrees. "I think we're all set."

*

Christmas still seems like a good time to talk to him, if for no other reason than it's far enough away, she has plenty of time to plan. And it's the kind of time when big gestures are both expected but also kind of safe. She could give him a romantic present and play it off as a joke if he didn't respond well, and while he'd still know, it would give them both the out they need to pretend it's not a thing.

She's already brainstorming ideas when he completely ruins the plan by kissing her.

As ways to ruin her plans go, it's pretty great, even if it takes her a second to figure out what's happening. It's obvious he's stressed and more than a little frazzled, but Clarke's seen him like that a thousand times, and he's never reached up, tangled his hand in her hair, and pressed his mouth against hers before. 

For all she's thought about it, she never thought it would _happen_. Not without warning.

That's about when she realizes it _is_ happening and starts to kiss back, nipping his bottom lip, settling her hand against his jaw, feeling the slight rasp of stubble under her fingers. He smiles, but only for a second, because she's deepening the kiss, getting the rhythm of it down, and all she can think about is how good it feels, how much she loves him, and how he probably feels the exact same way.

Raven was right; he did make the first move.

When he pulls back, she can't help gaping for a second, but then she _sees_ him, gazing up at her, all adoration, and she feels her own smile taking over her face. 

Christmas suddenly seems so far away. She doesn't know how she thought she could wait. She doesn't know how she waited this long in the first place.

"Thanks," he says, voice rough and deliberate. "I appreciate--I appreciate you."

She has to wet her lips to get her voice back, and she sees him track the movement. "Yeah. I'll bring her home after dinner, okay?"

"Cool."

"Good luck with your grades, that really sucks," she says, and he's _still watching her_ , and she can't help leaning in to kiss him herself, just a quick goodbye, assurance that they're good.

Or that's what it's supposed to be. In practice, she hasn't kissed anyone for two years, and she's wanted to kiss Bellamy almost that whole time, so she can't bring herself to pull back.

He's the one who finally manages it, looking a little dazed, like he somehow wasn't expecting her to keep wanting to kiss him. Which is ridiculous, because she's currently biting the corner of the mouth just to keep herself from doing it again.

"Yeah, uh--" he manages, only somewhat regaining his composure. And he still has to clear his throat again. "See you tonight. Raven can work wonders, probably." She can see his throat bob as he swallows. "Eat vegetables, Octavia."

Octavia sounds as smug as anything, so everyone really _did_ see this coming. "Thanks for the tip, Bell." But she's at least nice enough to wait until they're in the car to say, "So, I was going to ask you for advice, but you're probably useless now, right?"

"No, it's fine," she says, bright. "I can carry on normal conversations when I'm thinking about making out with your brother. I do it all the time. Go ahead."

Octavia laughs."Was that him asking you out, by the way?"

"It better be." Honestly, if anyone can overthink this one, it's Bellamy. But--it was _his idea_. There's no way he doesn't want to. "If he doesn't want to date me after that, I'm going to murder him. And then I'll get you out of foster care, obviously. Don't worry. Me and Raven and Wells will adopt you."

Octavia rolls down the window a little, even though it's freezing out. Clarke's found she always likes a little air to start a car trip, and it's the kind of quirk she _likes_ knowing. These are her people. She gets them. "I wasn't worried. He totally wants to marry you."

It's possible she'll never get tired of people telling her how much Bellamy likes her. "Good." 

*

It's four years before he actually asks her, which doesn't bother her in the least. It takes roughly ten minutes after she drops Octavia off that night for them to get their relationship squared away to her satisfaction, and she thinks they both know exactly how serious they are, right from the start. There are bad days, of course, serious disagreements, growing pains with the relationship and with Octavia. But she never doubts them, somehow, snd by the time he proposes, she's sure that there's nothing they can't survive together.

Which is why she says, "One question."

"You're responding to my proposal with a question?" he asks, sounding amused. "I proposed first, you can't do it now and get credit. I got dibs. You missed it."

"Not that," she says. And then she leans in and kisses him, just to get that out of the way before she makes it awkward. "I just--we haven't actually talked about kids."

He frowns, looking confused. "What about kids?"

"I know that's weird, we basically already _have_ a kid. And it's not like--I just thought we should talk about it. Before we--"

He looks completely baffled. "You want to talk about kids." And then, to her shock, he _laughs_. "Jesus, Clarke, I don't fucking _care_. Kids, no kids, whatever. I love you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. That's it. That's all." He bumps his nose against hers. "Honestly, if I'm done with fatherhood after this, I'm fine. We can just get a bunch of cats or something. We already raised a teenager."

Clarke laughs, leans up for another kiss. "Okay then, yeah. I'll marry you. Absolutely."

"Cool." He gives her a crooked smile. "You weren't actually worrying I was going to dump you because you didn't want kids for four years, were you? We really could have covered that sooner. Like, the first day."

"Not _worrying_. Just--it always seemed like you'd be a good dad. Like you should be one. But I figured it wouldn't really be an issue until after Octavia left."

"I guess," he says, sounding dubious. "And, yeah, I'd probably be a good dad. You'd be a good mom too, but who cares? We can be whatever we want. And I want to be with you."

"Sap."

"It's a proposal, I'm supposed to be sappy. Not that your a belated freak out about whether or not we're reproducing wasn't--"

She elbows him, snatching the ring out of his hand to slide onto her finger while she's at it. It fits perfectly, and she's probably not going to wear it regularly until summer, but--she can wear it until Monday, for sure. It looks really nice on her finger.

"Just wanted to make sure we're on the same page," she says.

"I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah," she says, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "That sounds exactly right."


End file.
